


AJAX RENOWN'D

by Grondfic



Category: Georgette Heyer Novels, The Unknown Ajax
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:42:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grondfic/pseuds/Grondfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place immediately following the end of <i>The Unknown Ajax</i>. Vincent's cautious appreciation of his large cousin's attributes increases as they toil together over a menial task.</p>
            </blockquote>





	AJAX RENOWN'D

**Author's Note:**

>   
> **AUTHOR'S NOTES**:  
> 1 This piece is dedicated to two ghosts; one literary and televisual, one actual:  
> **TO**: Dan Hagman, Chosen Man and singer (alias the very-much-alive John Tams, actor/singer-songwriter; but dead on Waterloo field according to _Sharpe_), who reminded me that if you want to find a voice for the historically voiceless, you should go back to what the people were singing about.  
> **TO**: the memory of Captain Daniel Cadoux, who truly did live and die in the 95th (Light Bobs) Regiment during the Peninsula campaign, and for whom I have here provided a fictional lover. Sir Harry Smith (of _Spanish Bride_ fame) records that Captain Cadoux, though brave and reckless, was noticeably effeminate.  
> 2 The verses here quoted are from _Leet Bob's Lassie_ (also known as _I know where I'm going_), and _Jamie Foyers_, a song better known from its later adaptation by Ewan McColl for the Spanish Civil War, but here quoted in the original, which commemorates a soldier killed during the siege of Burgos in 1812. There is also one sly line from _Bonnie Black Hare_ (possibly the rudest English folksong ever collected) quoted as an instruction _in flagrante_.
> 
> 3 The title – like that of Heyer's original one – is taken from Shakespeare's _Troilus and Cressida_, as are the tutoring/coping quotes, and miscellaneous descriptions of Ajax.

_**AJAX RENOWN'D: Georgette Heyer slash**_  
**TITLE: AJAX RENOWN'D  
FANDOM**: Georgette Heyer novel: _The Unknown Ajax_  
**PAIRING**: Vincent/Hugo (Hugo/Cadoux implied. Vincent/not-persons-of-_ton_ implied)  
**RATING**: NC17  
**WARNINGS**: Graphic sex. Regency slang  
**DISCLAIMER**: None of mine - all down to the genius of Georgette. No money made; no offense in the world!

**Part 1**:

Averse as he was to early rising, Vincent Darracott nonetheless contrived to be up betimes on the morning following the momentous visit by the Preventives to The Place. It was imperative that the heavy carriage containing his mother, younger brother and wounded cousin Richmond left for London at first light. Once that business was concluded, Vincent reluctantly acknowledged that he had a full day's menial labour ahead of him in the oldest part of the cellarage. The idea that all trace of the secret passage must be obliterated had been Cousin Hugo's: and as ever, Vincent had acquiesced with the utmost reluctance.

Without the aid of the indispensable Crimplesham, Vincent had tried to dress in his oldest and shabbiest clothes. This proved something of a trial to the Corinthian, since he had always ordered everything of the best. Furthermore, Vincent found it impossible to bring himself to wear any of the boots he had brought with him to Darracott Place. He directed a regretful glance at the gleaming row of Hessians, each impeccably treated with Crimplesham's own polishing preparation; and left them severely alone. He was forced to rummage in the steward's room for an elderly pair (clearly once belonging to young Richmond) which pinched abominably, and impelled him to walk with the mincing gait of his brother, that Tulip of the _Ton_, Claud Darracott.

He made his erratic way down several flights of precarious stairs before he heard a voice, singing to itself (offkey, but with a deep and carrying resonance) from the warren of dimly-lit cellars and passages before him.

_I'll dye my petticoats red  
And face them wi' the yellow.  
I'll tell the dyster lad  
That the Light Bobs I'm to follow._

"Ajax! Is that you?"

"Nay, Vincent lad! Whoever else would it be?"

"The notion of Spurstow briefly crossed my mind." said Vincent as he followed echoes into one of the passages.

A deep chuckle answered him and, rounding a turn, he came upon the large figure of Major Hugh Darracott (known as Hugo to his intimates), lit eerily by a randomly-placed concatenation of candles and lamps, and swathed in a countryman's smock, which rendered his substantial figure absolutely gargantuan in the uncertain light.

"Eh, our Vincent, tha'st oop betimes! Now, pluck up, lad. There's a mort of stone to addle here!"

"Oh, sneck up, Ajax! Be thankful I'm here, and communicating with a modicum of civility after the singularly unnerving events of last night!"

The Major, straightening up from a pile of ominous-looking boulders and a steaming mess of lime, surveyed the Corinthian in silence with his clear blue eyes.

"Nay, lad! Tha'st too fine. Here – put this on."

Vincent surveyed the smock held up for his approval, with distaste.

"How right you are, Ajax; and how dearly I should love to plant you a facer. Well – no point in loitering here. What are your orders, Major?"

The Major, reverting to his military persona, and consequently losing the aggravating Yorkshire dialect with which he had been teasing his cousin, pointed at a ragged gap in one of the cellar walls.

"Here's where young Richmond broke through! We must replace the wall, block the secret passage, and try to make it look as though it's been here since the Conqueror .. or whenever our ancestors made this delightful passage."

They set to work. It was, as Vincent had surmised, backbreaking, filthy and thanklessly hard labour. However, by midday, when Chollacombe appeared bearing a tray containing a substantial nuncheon and a jug of Kentish ale, they had between them contrived to block a considerable portion of the gaping hole.

Vincent, wiping his hands fastidiously in the capacious folds of his smock, watched his large companion find himself a perch on a pile of stone-rubble, seat himself, and take a hearty bite from his favourite bread slice with ham. No lines of worry or anxiety marred the big man's brow; and his blue eyes gazed at their morning's work with the innocent delight of a child admiring its own cleverness.

Ajax was, Vincent supposed, tolerable-looking. Certainly Cousin Anthea seemed to think so. The Major would, he thought, strip to advantage in the ring, could he but be persuaded to put the gloves on. Vincent himself would relish such a match, and was not without hopes of drawing his cork, perhaps at Cribb's Parlour where Vincent was regularly to be seen.

Not only did The Parlour offer the best sparring in London, but also afforded the opportunity for persons of Vincent's class to rub shoulders with some of Cribb's young professionals, his pupils and protégés. And some of these youngsters would do a great deal to win the patronage of a Corinthian such as himself. A very great deal indeed. Vincent allowed his eyes to wander distractedly over his cousin's well-made form, as he relived a couple of earlier encounters. Now Ajax ……

"Penny for your thoughts, our Vincent?"

Vincent answered without due forethought; and consequently with no pretence.

"I was wondering what you'd be like in bed, Ajax."

"The Devil you were!" the big man was amused, though his fair skin showed a betraying flush, "Happen you'll ask Anthea after the wedding; and happen she'll skelp you ower the lug. There's no one alive will answer you before then, lad."

"A pattern-card of the virtues as usual!" drawled Vincent with something of a sneer, "Fresh, pure and virginal as only a Light Bob can be!"

"Nay, lad, tha'st not listening properly." replied the Major, and relapsed into silence.

Vincent frowned as he chewed on that. What could Ajax mean? Vincent had heard quite well. No one alive ……. His black brows descended sharply over his eagle-nose and he shot a suspicious glance from beneath them. His cousin's silence was no longer peaceful and childlike, but, Vincent fancied, had taken on a quality of profound sadness.

"You had a lover who died?" he ventured finally.

The big man came back to himself, and gave a tiny shrug.

"Happen. It's chances of war, lad. You wouldn't understand if I told you."

"Try me!"

Instead of replying the Major began to hum softly. The tune was slow and the Major's offkey rendition lent it a haunting quality as if it came from deserted bonefields far away. Slowly Hugo added a snatch of the words -

_Far distant, far distant, lies ………..brave,  
No tombstone memor……… hallow his grave,  
His bones they are scattered …… rude soil of Spain,  
For Young Jamie Foyers in battle was slain._

"That came from the Forty Second – the Perthshire Militia," he broke off to explain, "The lad it tells of died in Burgos back in '12. Soldiers are a hard-bitten bunch, by and large. But if you hear them sing sometimes, around campfires at night, then you find they've told you their sorrows, loud and strong as any fine lady. Happen it's easier for me that road, too."

"Who …" Vincent hesitated, framing his question carefully, "Who was it?"

The Major sighed, surveyed Vincent ruminatively in the uncertain light, and seemed to make his mind up to something.

"His name was Dan Cadoux. Eh, lad, tha shouldsta seen him in his uniform. Finicky as a lass about it, poor lad. Our Claud reminds me, now and now, with his primping and preening. I daresay our Richmond will look as well in his – he has the looks for it; and so did my lad in Portugal."

"What happened?"

"You've not heard the story about the Bridge at Vera? Eh, but he was a headstrong lad. Stayed on his position holding the Frenchies off – clear against orders. He was right in the event, but his disobedience killed him. I should have been there wi' him. The bullet he took might have had my name on it. I mind that, time on time in the darks, after the moon's set."

Vincent looked down a suddenly-opened crevasse into a world he had never known; and found he had no words to respond to the Major's open avowal.

"I'm sorry, Ajax." was the best he could muster.

"Ahh .. that's all done with and finished. It's a life apart – an army at war."

"And Anthea?" Vincent could not help enquiring.

"It's a life APART, I said. Anthea .. the Old Gentleman … our Richmond … Darracott Place – that's all to come. Sithee Vincent, you've no call to fatch about your heritage here. It's safe enough, with my brass and Anthea's knowledge. And don't think you can't come here on one of your interminable repairing leases anytime you want, once I'm in the saddle. I'll be pleased to see thee, lad, whatever your opinion of Harrow as an educational establishment!"

That dragged a somewhat reluctant laugh from Vincent, but now that he knew of the Major's Peninsular entanglement he found that, as they worked on through the afternoon, he could not pull his thoughts away from the speculation, which he had started so idly. Images assailed him of Ajax stripped for the ring; of lamplight on bare skin under canvas, with the sounds of a billeted army coming in from the night; of Ajax swimming … no that could not be right! Richmond had told him that the Major had never learned, and became sick at sea. Vincent mentally shook himself, and addressed himself once more to the dwindling pile of stone and mortar at his feet.

Finally the task was done. The wall rose again before them, the replaced stonework distinguished only by uneven damp streaks amongst the intersections.

"Eh, that's champion!" exclaimed Hugo, who seemed to have forgotten his earlier melancholy, "I'll be down tomorrow when it's dry, and make the thing look as if no-one's come next or nigh the place for a tidy few years. Eh, our Vincent, we must be pretty wick if we're not to keep the old gentleman waiting! Chuck over that smock of yours. I'll take them both to Mrs Flitwick before I go up to change for dinner."

He pulled the voluminous garment over his head as he spoke, revealing the serviceable leathers which he had worn to ride from London, and a loose shirt which had undoubtedly seen better days. Vincent suspected that the darkened hole in one of the sleeves might have been occasioned by a bullet at sometime in the past.

"Hurry Vincent! This is no place to be standing around improperly dressed!" he commanded with a barely-repressed shiver, "As it is, I'm hoping to avoid Anthea or my Aunt Elvira between the kitchens and my bedchamber. I didn't bring a coat."

"You look perfectly fine to me, Ajax," said Vincent, allowing his eyes to wander from the Major's throat to that portion of his barrel-chest which had been left exposed by the open shirt-collar, "In fact – more than fine."

The big man stilled suddenly, and his bovine gaze rested on Vincent's face long enough for the Corinthian to become uncomfortable. It was only by reminding himself that he was no longer at Eton that he contrived not to wriggle under that steady stare.

"You meant it. It was a serious proposition!" stated the Major finally, in a voice devoid of any trace either of nuance or dialect. Vincent's brows rose, and he nodded, "Tonight, then," said Hugo after another pause, "I'll come. Leave your door on the latch and get rid of Crimplesham betimes."

Vincent Darracott was known to his Family as an inveterate risk-taker and hardened gambler. He possessed the iron nerve of the intrepid horseman, and the brass front of the true gamester. Nonetheless, as he followed his cousin along the network of passages and up the rickety stairs into the house itself, he could not repress a shiver of mingled anticipation and an apprehension almost bordering on fright. It was a potent mix, but he could not help wondering if, this time, he had not out-jockeyed himself and arrived at _point non plus_.

**Part 2**:

Dinner had dragged on interminably, thought Vincent as he finally blew out his candle for the night. Now that it came to it, he could only hope that he was able to stay awake long enough to welcome Ajax to his bed.

The old Lord had still been very subdued following the revelation of young Richmond's last escapade; whilst Mrs Darracott, the boy's mother, had been frankly overset and hardly able to support herself at table. Consequently Cousin Anthea had been fully occupied with her volatile parent; leaving Vincent himself to deal with their broken grandfather. Ajax had, of course, managed to put Lord Darracott into better heart, whilst simultaneously encouraging the womenfolk to take a more sanguine view of the situation. In spite of his sudden obsession with the Major's physical attributes, Vincent still found his unfailing kindness and ebullience intensely irksome.

Fortunately no one had shown any predilection either to linger over the port at table, or to prolong the party around the tea-tray once the gentlemen had joined the ladies in the upstairs parlour later on. Everyone, in fact, was in bed betimes; which, reflected Vincent, was probably exactly what Ajax had in mind all along. Damn him.

The only warning he received of the big man's entrance was a sharp breeze billowing the bed curtains, followed by a discreet snick as the key was turned in its lock. Vincent barely had time to entertain the lightning thought that Ajax moved like a cat in spite of his bulk, before the curtain was pulled softly back, and a voice spoke from the looming shadow above him.

"Vincent? Art sure of this, lad?"

"Of course I'm sure, Ajax. A pretty fool I would look if not! I should perhaps warn you that the bed springs creak abominably."

"Eh lad, happen my room would have been better then. No-one comes next or nigh the west wing – as our Richmond knew, the young scamp. However, we're not immediately above the dining room, so I'd say myself it's a risk worth taking. After all, if you're ettling to go over this cliff with me, what's a creaking mattress, more or less?"

"That rather depends on what you have in mind to do, Ajax."

"Nay, Vincent, this is your game, lad. I should warn you, however, that I'm not in the rough-trade, so don't think it!"

Vincent smothered a laugh.

"I DON'T think it indeed, sweet coz! I could purchase that sort of commodity anytime in the back alleys of Covent Garden, or upstairs at Cribb's."

"Then what DO you want, Vincent?"

"Well, you know, Ajax, I must confess I took a fancy to you. And no-one was more surprised than I was, believe me!"

"Much the same reason I had in coming here, think on. Then, since we have the better part of the night before us, happen we should get … acquainted."

"Why, I have no quarrel with that, Ajax." replied Vincent, as he shifted across the bed, dragging back the coverlets to allow the big man ingress.

After a moment, during which Vincent surmised from the sounds that the Major was divesting himself of whatever clothing he had deemed appropriate for a night-visit, the mattress tilted sharply as Hugo sat down.

The bed springs did indeed creak alarmingly, but no worse than if Vincent himself had made an incautious move whilst alone in the bed. The big body that slid down to measure his length and beyond, was warm and surprisingly soft; whilst the hand that groped for a moment before settling to cup the ball of his shoulder, though callused, was gentle.

"To sithee by candle-flame would be sweet," breathed the Major, "But none of us dare show a light in any room here, after last night. We maun be suited by the dark."

The hand grazed over Vincent's chest, and moved up until the fingers rested lightly over the pulse at his throat.

Vincent moved sharply. There was that in him willing to be soothed and befuddled by the softness of this approach, and the Major's dawdling pace. But that was not, he reminded himself forcefully, how he himself conducted such affaires.

"Dalliance is hardly my style, Ajax!" he announced tartly.

"Eh, lad, think what you'll be missing! If ever I met such a naggy lover as you! You'd best take the reins yourself then, since there's no pleasing you."

"Since you mention it, Ajax, my chief desire is to .. er … mount and ride."

"Ah!" the big man fell silent, and Vincent did not doubt that his cerulean orbs had taken on that bovine opacity which, he now knew, indicated that the Major was deep in thought. "Turn and turn about is fair play?" suggested Hugo finally.

The Corinthian paused. He had not played the bitch with anyone since his Eton days, and with the lowly-born partners he usually enjoyed, would hardly have given it any consideration whatsoever. However this man, though of mongrel ancestry, might be regarded as being of his own order; and in any event would be head of The Family once the old Lord stuck his spoon in the wall. It were as well to be diplomatic – especially since the Major had the height, weight and reach on him.

"Perhaps!" he allowed grudgingly.

"Eh, that's champion! Wait whilst I … "

The bed groaned again and the Major was gone. Perhaps Ajax to could see in the dark. As the bed tilted one further time under the big man's weight, Vincent found that something cold and rough was being pressed into his hands.

"What …?"

"Jar of my Aunt Elvira's Soothing Lotion," explained the Major, clearly repressing unseemly mirth; and then adding apologetically, "Well it was either that, or the pomade stuff you use on your hair, lad!"

"You came prepared …. ?" Vincent asked incredulously.

"We Light Bobs always come prepared." replied the Major imperturbably.

Vincent decided that too much parleying would divert him from his purpose, particularly since the Major insisted on saying things that inspired him with the unholy desire to laugh aloud at the most inopportune times. If the big man were accustomed to giving orders, then he was probably also used to receiving them. Repressing the thought that this behaviour did not march directly with the Hugo that he knew, he addressed the Major as he would one of his grooms.

"Turn over!"

"Immediately …. Sorr!" replied Hugo, with a pronounced Hibernian brogue.

There was no doubt that the Major's tendency to levity was threatening to overcome him; but since he promptly obeyed Vincent's order (thereby causing the bed to tip precariously), the latter was able to ignore this aspect of their interchange.

Vincent was adept at the next stage in the procedure, and his use of the Soothing Lotion was both neat and economical. His nimble fingers penetrated Hugo without undue resistance, and, encouraged by this apparently easy conquest, he was emboldened to breach the Major's defenses without further ado.

Once firmly in the saddle, Vincent did not delay in riding his point to its climatic conclusion. There could be no question as to the willingness of his mount, who did not falter at the ultimate fence; even though Vincent, at the apex of the action, had not hesitated to apply corporal encouragement (in lieu of a riding-crop) to his mount's solid flank in the heat of the moment.

The bed, which had probably suffered the severest punishment, gave one final protest as Vincent dismounted and rolled aside onto his back. The whole business had, he thought, been conducted most satisfactorily; and the elephant Ajax ridden to a conclusion which few could doubt to be a clincher! The future master of Darracott Place had been most emphatically mastered; and now Vincent could face his Cousin Anthea secure in the knowledge that there was ONE part of the future Lord Darracott that she would never possess.

"Eh, Vincent-love, there's little laughter in your life, and that's a fact!"

Vincent would far rather not have heard from his recent partner. Cribb's boys would, after all, have said nothing and left circumspectly – taking their expected douceur – without undue fuss.

The big body next to his moved sluggishly; and suddenly something more reminiscent of a sledge-hammer than a human hand was placed heavily upon his breast-bone.

"Turn and turn-about," stated the Major in a voice which now held a sting of implacability, "Is fair play!"

"What?" yelped Vincent, jolted out of his post-coital languor, "Ajax - I'm in no condition to … YOU'RE in no …. " he stopped as a dreadful thought intruded, "Ajax – you … you didn't ….?"

A tentative brush of his fingers across the Major's groin confirmed Vincent's incredulous surmise.

"We Light Bobs always hold our fire. We find that works best," said the Major serenely, "When setting an ambush!"

"Ajax, you can't!" Vincent's outrage and disbelief emerged as a near-wail, "Don't you see it's bellows to mend with me? I could no more rise to the occasion than …. "

"That" interrupted Hugo patiently, "is what 'dalliance' is for. Eh, our Vincent, it seems to me you've all to learn. And since it was you, if I recall, who first set your cap at me, then happen you SHOULD learn; and fast!"

An acute awareness of helplessness stole over Vincent, together with a seductive sense of inevitability; as if he had reached the place he had been unconsciously aiming for all along. It impelled him to a response which, even to his own ears, sounded distinctly provocative.

"Are you setting up to tutor me, Ajax?"

A short laugh shook the big body that now leaned over him.

"Nay, Vincent. Happen _an assinego may tutor thee_!"

Since this was a line with which Vincent himself had previously taunted the Major, he flinched a little, hoping that Ajax would not notice. It would be beneath him to admit that the cut had stung.

"Eh, lad. I'm sorry. That was uncalled for," Hugo clearly realised that he had fallen into error, "Here have I barely brought you round my thumb, and bantering you as if we've been field-comrades for years."

"You have NOT … " began Vincent indignantly.

"Have I not, Vincent-love? Then perhaps …. I should … try a little harder. Sithee, there are places … here," the Major paused and the tip of his tongue flicked the silky crescent of thin skin behind Vincent's ear, "and here … " the tongue, and now lips, travelled in a slow diagonal to the base of his throat, ".. that have an exquisite sensitivity not found .. say .. here!"

Vincent was betrayed into a muted yelp as Hugo's strong teeth nipped his upper arm.

"That was unnecessary!" he protested. Hugo laughed softly.

"Do you object to being kissed, Vincent-love?" he asked.

"I don't know. I've never .. "

The kiss began tentatively as most experiments are wont to do; merely a soft pressure of mouth on mouth. Such caresses had been few and far between in Vincent's life; his Mama having rigorously disapproved of overt displays of emotion, and his adult paramours (both male and female) not being of sufficient _ton_ to merit such marks of distinction from him.

However, when Hugo deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue like a sneak-thief between Vincent's lips, the latter did not deny him. Succumbing thus, Vincent discovered somewhat to his surprise, that his spent cock was once more showing signs of life.

Now Ajax was doing fascinating things to Vincent's collarbone and the nipples below, with their fine aureoles of dark hair. Whoever had lessoned the Major in these matters had known a thing or two not taught at Cribb's! Vincent could barely suppress a moan as the knowledgeable tongue travelled south, dipping briefly into his navel before running the delicate length of his again erect cock.

"Lotion!" Hugo's command cut abruptly across Vincent's exquisite dissolution. He froze on the instant, faced unexpectedly with _point non plus_.

"Ajax, I …. "

"Vincent-love," the deep voice reverberated at stomach-level, unfreezing his guts and loosening all the accumulated tensions in the muscles of his chest and abdomen, "Who was it so misused you that love must always be hurtful, and the sole road to power?"

"A prefect at Eton. But Ajax, surely …… that is the way it must be. The strong must take the weak."

"Nay, lad; not always. When the line between life and death is so thin, there's nowt but love to keep a body sane. I'll trouble you for the lotion-jar, and happen you'll understand, love."

Vincent had never made so fine a distinction in this context. He groped at armslength for the jar he had abandoned on the nightstand what seemed like hours ago and handed it to the shadowy, fateful figure now parting his legs; hoping that, perhaps, he would not be called upon to test the thinness of the line Hugo had referred to.

So careful was the Major's approach that Vincent offered no resistance at all as his citadel was invaded in full frontal assault, rather than the expected rear-attack. He yielded gradually to the investiture, allowing the conqueror free access to all areas. In so doing, he discovered that there were actions he could take –somewhat limited, to be sure - which facilitated Hugo's triumphal entry, and afforded the conquered a rather astonished gratification.

"Eh, lad, that's gradely! Now – lock your legs round me and dig in with your heels; and you'll find that _Ajax will cope the best_."

Deeming it best to comply, Vincent found himself rocked gently but inexorably to an explosive conclusion the like of which he had never dreamed possible. Clinging helplessly to Hugo's shoulders, he barely retained enough sanity to drop his head in order to stifle his cries against the wide barrel-chest that now threatened to crush him to the misused mattress, as Ajax convulsed above him. An irregular drumbeat pounded ever fainter in his ears, and the flashes of fire behind his eyes faded slowly to black.

**Part 3**:

"Love, I must go!"

The words penetrated Vincent's ears. His mind, sated and hovering over a semi-dream state, refused the sense absolutely until movement dislodged his cheek from the flesh on which it was pillowed. He voiced an inarticulate protest and clutched on reflex; only to have his fingers gently removed.

"Vincent! It's nearly dawn!"

Vincent raised a reluctant head.

"Why, sweet coz? Crimplesham won't dare show his face here until I ring for him; and surely your lad wouldn't presume …."

"The house servants will be up soon, love. I must be gone before then."

"No!" Vincent had no idea how petulant his objection sounded, "I want .. I wanted to see you by daylight, Ajax. Please!"

"Vincent!" this was the Major addressing a recalcitrant underling, all trace of dialect gone from the clipped tone, "You know – do you not? – that this is a hanging matter?"

"Oh surely, Ajax … persons of our class …. "

"Nevertheless, the law is the law. True, they might not exact the full penalty; but even if not – well, think, lad! Richmond's little escapade would count as nothing beside the monumental scandal if someone informed on us. It would kill our grandfather, and probably your parents too. We'd both be disinherited! There would be no choice. Which – think on .." added the Major reflectively, "Would leave Our Claud to inherit the title. So happen you'll move now, and let me go!"

Vincent heartily wished that Ajax did not possess the disconcerting quality of throwing opponents off-balance with nicely-timed jokes; although, in this case, he spoke no less than the disturbing truth. Vincent sighed heavily and moved aside, trying not to experience a childish pang of loss when the big man, rocking the mattress one last time, deserted the bed, dragging with him a substantial piece of cloth.

"What …. ?"

"There's no call to draw unnecessary attention to the state of your sheets, lad, so I brought some waste cloths with me."

"Light Bobs always think of everything?" queried Vincent faintly.

"Aye. And that puts me in mind of something else. Here – there's a damp cloth; but you must make sure you're alone once the hot water gets delivered in the morning. I must go! I promised grandfather I'd ride with him before breakfast," There was a pause, and then Hugo added, deceptively mildly, "Happen you'd like to join us?"

"Ajax, do you honestly suppose I'm in any fit state to bestride a horse?"

"Maybe not. Later, then."

The Major leaned down across the bed to print an almost chaste salute on Vincent's lips, and neatly evaded the latter's attempt to prolong it.

"Ajax ….?" even to his own ears, Vincent sounded desperate, "Shall we? .. shall I? .. You could stay at my lodgings on your way to the north! I can give Crimplesham the night off."

"And my people? Ferring, and of course, John Joseph? There's very little gets past him!"

"Send them to the coaching inn, and join them when the post leaves. Please Ajax!"

The usual bovine pause ensued.

"Vincent-love," there was a laugh now in the deep voice, "Why the rush? We can make plans when I visit tonight. Or anytime we find ourselves alone during the daytime, think on! Don't fatch yourself; I shall be around for a good few years yet. I believe you've all formed a conspiracy," explained the Major plaintively, "to keep me in the Family!"

"Do you mean it, Ajax?"

"We Light Bobs" returned the Major severely, "Are creatures of our word!"

*****************************


End file.
